The Love Affairs of HJ Potter
by AkoyaMizuno
Summary: A collection of one shots about the love life of Harry Potter. Various pairings; slash and heterosexual. Mostly AU.
1. Severus

_Welcome to __The Love Affairs of H.J. Potter__. This is (or will be) a collection of one shots dedicated to the love life of our dear Harry James Potter. Each story stands alone, genres, story length and pairings will vary. Both heterosexual and homosexual pairings will be included. Suggestions are more than welcome, though I cannot and will not promise anything. Feel free to read any story that interests you and please review, but be warned that any flames for 'slash' pairings or even just for a heterosexual ship you don't like will be promptly deleted. I'm going to try my best to fluctuate between slash and heterosexual pairings such that every odd numbered story will be slash and every even numbered story will be het. I don't promise that I'll be able to keep that up, but I'll try._

_All stories will be rated T due to a liking for swear words on my part._

**I truly hate you: A Severus x Harry story**

Really he ought to be used to the darkness. He should be comfortable in the dark, in the damp and the cold. But the truth was that despite everything Severus Snape was still _human_, and he had a craving for warm days with bright sunshine and, _yes_, even the laughter of sugar filled children.

It was incompatible with his nature, of course. Even his friends – of which he could only claim to have two – would stop and stare at him if he were to share the sentiment. Albus would no doubt twinkle in his infuriating manner and Minerva would probably drag him to see Poppy, just be certain that he was "quite alright."

Severus occasionally wondered what it said about him that his only friends were, respectively, old enough to be his great grandfather and his mother.

That said, a desire for the light and the outdoors rarely translated to actually _leaving_ his dungeons. His potions were in his dungeons and if Severus had one true love in his life, it was potions. Severus was a sarcastic, brittle and bitter man, and his reputation as the bat of the dungeons was something of a point of pride. But he could escape into the potions. There was nothing but him and the subtle, engaging power that crept through him like a drug. His annual tirade to the first year classes was no exaggeration. He really could put a stopper in death itself, and if that wasn't as close as one could get to ultimate power it was at least close enough.

Oddly the teaching was nearly as good. There was nothing quite like being in a position to mold the minds of upcoming generation of wizards and witches. And if Severus occasionally felt strongly about his duty, or, Merlin forbid, allowed himself to _care_ for the brats then there was really no one around to know except Severus himself.

Though, he really did wish that Albus would stop giving him those looks, the ones that said that _he_ knew and found the whole thing entirely too amusing. The old man had been doing entirely too much twinkling as of late and a rather disturbing amount of it was directed at Severus.

Just earlier the bastard had twinkled at him as he walked by and oh so casually mentioned that he believed Professor Potter had the right idea by getting outside and going for a flight. He'd bemoaned his old age, as if anything could keep _Albus Dumbledore_ from doing what he wished. Severus had sneered and made some suitably caustic remark.

But he'd also redirected his footsteps outside.

And that had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the opportunity to watch _Professor_ Harry Potter (Professor! What had Albus been thinking?) in his natural element. Really, Albus' words had simply reminded him that for once he had nothing brewing in his dungeons, and with no other obligations he was free to go terrorize students during their off time. On a day like today, that meant going outside.

Even now, watching as Potter made a ludicrous spectacle of himself in front of cheering students, Severus firmly told himself that he was there to make sure things didn't get out of hand and to hand out appropriate punishments when they inevitably did. He was certainly not there to appreciate the glow of joy on Potter's face, nor was he there to glare threateningly at the students (both female and male) who dared to gaze at their Professor with more than the acceptable amount of adoration in their eyes.

Still, Severus watched and brooded as Potter did flips and dives and any number of other dangerous maneuvers. Potter was an incredible flyer; even Severus could – reluctantly – admit that. Time had only made the younger man better, and the ending of the war had seen a release of tension in Potter that showed best in his flying. Where he had been all sharp corners and quick agility he was now almost graceful. If a person where fanciful they could imagine that they were watching Potter perform some sort of aerial dance.

Severus hated that Potter invariably drew his eye with that dance.

Over the years he had hated Potter for a lot of reasons. He had hated him for being James Potter's son. Had hated him for having Lily's eyes. Hated him for being an ignorant child. Hated him for having _power_ and not enough care to use it.

But mostly Severus hated Harry James Potter because he was incorruptible. Because even beaten, abused, shunned, hunted and hated, Potter shone as bright as the sun. And Severus, whose life had been neither worse nor better, had fallen. And that fall would stain him forever.

Potter jumped off his broom, a wide smile on his face and a bright shine in his eyes.

"Severus!" he called, jogging over to him, the smile widening and softening just the tiniest bit.

And Severus hated him for that too. For being able to put the past aside, for being able to let go of the hate when he himself was still swimming in it.

"Potter," he replied. "If I could take points away from professors for your ridiculous stunts I would."

Potter, blast him, just laughed. Like Severus was _joking_, like Potter's death defying stunts weren't stupidly dangerous and didn't nearly give Severus heart attacks.

Severus ruthlessly pushed that thought aside.

"I'll have to bring it up with Albus next staff meeting," Potter said.

Severus made a non-committal noise, knowing very well that Potter would do no such thing. Albus would take the suggestion all too seriously for any of their comfort, and if there was one thing he and Potter could agree on it was that encouraging the Headmaster was foolish.

The pair casually wound their way through milling students, attracting incredulous looks and openly curious stares. Severus made a point of glaring, but Potter's easy smile was undoing his hard work.

"You look idiotic, Potter."

Potter laughed again, and Severus barely refrained from smirking at him. Instead he crinkled his nose and gave his companion a contemptuous once over. "You look like you've been mucking out Hippogriff stalls." It was a lie, of course. Potter looked enjoyably windswept and his emerald eyes were alight with a glee that drew you in. Truth wasn't about to stop the Potions Master. "You smell like it too. Be sure to get a shower before joining the head table at supper. I would rather not be subject to your fermenting sweat."

But Potter just grinned wickedly at him, a strange spark in his gaze. "Care to join me, Severus?"

Severus jolted to a stop mid-step and spluttered.

Potter's grin turned positively predatory, causing Severus to take an involuntary step back. Severus gave the young man his best glare to make up for it.

"I truly hate you, Potter."

And Harry smirked and shook his head. "You keep telling yourself that, Severus." With that parting comment he turned and took off.

Severus stared after him, wondering just when fate had signed off on his doom.


	2. Luna

_Author's Notes: I'm trying to decide if I should be offended about the lackluster response to this collection. Ah well, I'm probably just spoiled._

**Loony Luna Lovegood's Love Shop: A Luna x Harry Story**

"Luna," Harry said cautiously, "what exactly are you doing?"

Luna Lovegood - sixth year Ravenclaw and renowned oddball - looked up from her beadwork and gave Harry a brilliant smile. Harry found himself smiling back almost despite himself.

"Hello Harry, did you know that Hogwarts has an infestation of Vobisne Pixies?"

"... no, I didn't know that." Harry glanced around, wondering if it was really safe to ask. "The... pixies. Are they the reason you're sitting on a blanket in the Entrance Hall?"

"Exactly!" Luna replied, looking extremely pleased that he had figured it out. If only Harry knew what it was he'd figured out.

For reasons completely unknown to him, Luna appeared to have set up some sort of shop. Her blanket (a startling blue that looked remarkably like one of Professor Dumbledore's robes) had all kinds of odd knickknacks spread out on it with little signs stating the price. There was beadwork, jewellery made of random junk, strangely shaped containers, potions, amulets, bottle-caps and a plethora of things that Harry couldn't readily identify.

The overall effect made Luna appear remarkably like a street vendor. Though Harry was reasonably sure that average street vendors weren't pretty blonde schoolgirls with dreamy grey eyes.

Harry gave a mental shrug and sat himself down next to his zany friend.

"So what do these Vobisne pixies do?"

"Oh, it's truly terrible," Luna informed him, "they infect both genders and cause boys to blush and stammer and girls to blink an awful lot and talk about the most ridiculous things. No one can properly talk to each other at all with the infestation we have right now."

Harry paused, considering that statement and thinking of the Valentine's dance that Dumbledore had announced just the other day. "You might have a point there."

"I'm very glad that you haven't been infected, Harry." Luna's expression contained such sincerity that Harry found himself blushing.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Luna peered closely at him, "Though I think the pixies are trying to attack you. Here-" she picked up a crescent moon pin made of griffin bone and fastened it to his collar "- that should help."

"Thanks," Harry said again, surprisingly pleased with the gift. "So all this stuff is to help people fight off the influence of the pixies?"

"Yes. But it only works if it's given as a gift from one person to another," Luna explained.

Harry nodded. That made a surprising amount of sense, at least for Luna.

"Though it's really too bad no one seems interested in a cure." The Ravenclaw made a gesture at the students who were walking by without really looking.

Harry grinned. "I think I can help."

*****

Three hours later Harry was exhausted and mildly embarrassed, but Luna's happy smile as she folded the blanket was definitely worth it. There were some things that being The-Boy-Who-Lived were actually good for; being a mascot was apparently one of them.

Excepting Professor Dumbledore's coming by to get a necklace for Professor McGonagall (urgh!), it had been an interesting (and informative) afternoon. Grinning slightly to himself, Harry finished boxing the few items Luna had left.

"That everything?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Luna replied looking thoughtful. "An awful lot of students were thinking about the upcoming dance, weren't they?"

Harry chuckled. "It's one of those things that people get hung up on."

Luna cocked her head and gave him a sort of sideways look. "Are you going with anyone?"

"Haven't asked anyone yet. I thought about asking Ginny but she's like my sister. It would be too weird."

Luna nodded before leaning over and kissing him full on the lips. It was a wonderful feeling, warm and full of promises.

Harry was staring at Luna with new appreciation when she pulled back.

"Would you like to go with me?"

Harry blushed and stumbled over his acceptance.


	3. Sirius

_Author's Notes: Ugh. This is terribly OOC, which is extremely unfortunate because I'm usually very good with Sirius, but I'm going to post it anyway._

_This is what I lovingly refer to as speed writing. You know how artists will do a painting in an hour or two? Well, this is the written equivalent and is something of an experiment as this piece is also stylistically very different for me. Please review._

**Moment to Moment: A Sirius x Harry story**

The first time they told me I didn't believe them. I actually laughed, if you can imagine that. Sure, it was a cruel joke, but surely…

But no, they really meant it. And I just couldn't conceive of it. Harry, _my Harry_, was dying. After all we'd been through, after Harry having finally killed Voldemort, my precious godson was dying of some blasted unknown curse. A parting gift from the Dark Lord. Because Harry's life hadn't been fucked over enough already.

And Harry, he just nodded and asked what could be done. This is the boy – no, this is the man who'd killed a threat worse than Grindelwald. Harry James Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, Order of Merlin First Class, sixth year Gryffindor and _dying_ but damn well not going down without a fight.

They told him there wasn't much we could do. The experts were doing everything they could at this point.

Harry smiled at the healer and asked for a copy of the research so far. "No offense to your experts," he'd said. "But none of them are Hermione Granger or Severus Snape."

I remember thinking that I'd worship the ground Snape walked on if he could cure Harry. If he could do it, I'd forgo all the pranks, all the snarky words, everything.

He did come through, after a fashion. It wasn't a cure, but Snape's work bought time that the healers hadn't given us. It surprised me honestly. Not that he managed it, but that he did it without snarling or glaring.

I discovered that I was a horrible person the day Snape handed Harry the first potion. Oh, I was glad, infinitely, incredibly glad that Snape was there for Harry. But I was also horribly angry at him for being able to help where I couldn't.

I have never felt so utterly useless in my entire life.

It was Remus who'd snapped me out of my funk. He walked up one day and smacked me across the face. "Get over yourself, Sirius Black. Harry needs your support. And you're failing miserably."

He was right. Harry, beautiful, wonderful, strong Harry, needed someone who could be strong for him for once. Needed the adults in his life to act like adults for once. Friends are wonderful things, but had Harry ever really been able to lean on an adult for support?

There were so many things he'd done on his own. I wasn't about to let him do this too.

I moved into Hogwarts after that. I was there under some extraordinarily thin excuse about research for a new set of DADA textbooks. I don't think anyone bought it, but it didn't matter.

Life settled into a pattern. I spent an inordinate amount of time with Harry, getting to know him in ways that just hadn't been possible with the war on.

Something in the way I saw him started to shift. Because this young man had never really been a child. Because he understood me in ways that not even Moony managed. That even James had never done.

And I like to think that I understood him too. That I made him laugh without strings attached.

It was easy to forget amongst the laughter and the long talks, but every so often something would happen that would bring reality crashing back. Like the day he turned down flying because he was 'just a bit tired.' Or the way he sometimes stopped part way up staircases, completely winded. Or how he'd occasionally wince when someone hugged him, like his skin was just a bit too sensitive.

Still, life was surprisingly good. I went whole days without even thinking about it.

Maybe that's why I wasn't prepared. Why my heart skipped up into my throat when Neville came running for me.

Harry had collapsed in the shower, his legs just giving out from underneath him. He was okay, Ron had gotten him to the Hospital Wing, but he was asking for me.

I spent that whole day gripping Harry's hand while a parade of people came in and out to see him. When we were finally, blessedly alone I asked him to move into my quarters. He hesitated but agreed.

No one seemed terribly surprised by this decision. And Ron and Hermione solved Harry's concerns by becoming fixtures in my living space.

It was inevitable that I got to know the people Harry considered family after that.

It's amazing how much I really hadn't known anything about these young people. Had I ever even suspected half of what they were to Harry? And it wasn't just Ron and Hermione. It was Fred and George, who made regular trips to Hogwarts to show Harry new inventions. It was Neville who chatted aimlessly about everything, Luna who patted Harry's hand and offered him trinkets, and it was Ginny who learned the exact right way to hug Harry without hurting him.

There were others too. Surprises like Draco Malfoy who nodded at Harry every time he passed by. Or Susan Bones who dragged me aside one day just to share a story.

And then there were the rest of us. The 'adults.' I must have been blind not to see that Harry had found parents in Molly and Arthur. And how in the world had I missed the quiet sureness of his relationship with 'Uncle' Moony?

It made me wonder about my own relationship with Harry. He was my godson, I loved him. But it felt like something more nowadays. I'd be lying if I said I was completely comfortable with that fact. But death, even a creeping death, doesn't leave much room for lies.

Truth came knocking hard the day I found Harry curled up into a ball in the bathroom.

Tears were streaming down his face as he hacked and coughed into a washcloth. I retrieved one of Snape's potions and then sat next to Harry, rubbing his back while we waited for the coughing fit to settle.

I nearly threw up when the cloth came away red with blood. We'd known that this was going to happen. Knowing didn't make it any easier.

Somehow I got Harry to drink his potion and pulled him into my arms. I rocked him as he sobbed, and continued holding him when his sobs gave way to terrified rambling. "I haven't gotten to do anything. Not a thing, Siri. Not even a real proper kiss, 'cause Cho doesn't count."

At that I pulled back a little and looked, _really_ looked, at the young man in my arms.

He was disheveled, his eyes rimmed with red and his hair even worse than normal. His eyes were fever bright and his skin was too pale for words.

And it didn't matter a whit.

I kissed him in a way that a godfather has no right to.

He pulled back almost immediately, staring up into my eyes. "Is this for real? This isn't about pity?"

"It's for real, Harry," I told him gruffly. "If you want me." And something in my tone or eyes must have shown him that truth, for he blushed and gave me a hesitant smile.

"I –" Harry shifted slightly, "- would you do that again?"

So I did.

I almost wish that I could say that what followed was a torrid affair. It wasn't. But there were kisses, and wandering hands and a whole lot of physical closeness that felt remarkably right.

It wasn't that I didn't want it, or even that Harry didn't. The honest truth is that Harry wasn't healthy enough for anything more. And for us, for now, this was enough.

It's been four weeks since that day and people have accepted us more or less gracefully. Molly subjected me to a 'what are your intentions' speech, which was horribly funny coming from someone only a few years my senior. Hermione threatened to disembowel me if I hurt him, and Ginny had given me a once over before nodding curtly. Even Luna had _looked_ at me for an awful long time before skipping over to Harry.

The guys apparently felt that the women had taken care of everything and said nothing. I've caught Remus eyeing me carefully a few times, but he seems to have found whatever it was he was looking for because he hasn't said a word.

Harry has gotten worse. He doesn't leave our rooms at all any more and barely leaves the bed.

I wake up each day not knowing if he'll survive to see the next.

But I wake up with him lying next to me, and he's breathing still. We're living moment to moment, and I'm trying to capture as many of them as I can. Its insurance against the day when there won't be any more.

So the first thing I do with each day is check to see if Harry is still with me. The second thing I do is kiss him.

And I pray to whoever is listening that I'll be able to do the same tomorrow.


	4. Tonks

_Author's Notes: I think I like this one. It was enjoyable to write._

_I debated a bit on what they should call each other name-wise. In fact, I was originally going to write a story about that, but this is what came out instead. I think I went with last names because I see Tonks and Harry having a really casual sort of relationship. I think it'd be more about having fun and enjoying the moment than any sort of real commitment, you know?_

_I think Harry is somewhere around 25 or so here. At least, that's what I'm picturing in my head._

**Pillow Talk: A Tonks x Harry story**

Nymphadora Tonks was currently sprawled in a comfortable, if somewhat haphazard, manner. She stretched luxuriously before cuddling into her pillow.

Said pillow grumbled and poked her in the side. "Tonks… really, I can't breath."

"If you couldn't breath, you wouldn't be talking to me," Tonks replied, but she rolled over onto her stomach – and off Harry – anyway.

Idle – and not entirely willing to give up physical contact yet – she began a lazy examination of her partner's scars. "What happened here?" she asked, tracing along a jagged curve on his arm.

"Hmm?" he replied sleepily. "Oh. Basilisk."

Tonks stared. "Bas- if you were anyone else Potter…"

He grinned at her. "If I were anyone else we wouldn't be here right now."

She groaned and scooped up a pillow to smack him with.

"Hey!" He protested indignantly. "No hitting me with pillows."

Tonks seriously debated ignoring him but her curiosity got the better of her. "Well?" she demanded.

"Well what?" Harry replied.

"Basilisk!" she exclaimed, making a sort of sweeping gesture with her arm that encompassed all her questions.

He chuckled. "I'm surprised you don't know about it. Somehow I thought the whole Order would have heard."

"There were plenty of rumors. But no one ever seemed to _know_ anything. Dumbledore was pretty tight lipped about you," Tonks admitted. "Really, where the hell did you run into a Basilisk?"

"In the Chamber of Secrets. That was… second year? Ginny was possessed by Voldemort's diary."

"Voldemort's diary." Tonks echoed in complete disbelief.

"Yeah, I know. The great sociopath had a _diary_. He'd turned it into a Horcrux back when he was a teenager."

Tonks gaped, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"The thing had possessed Ginny and had her releasing Slytherin's Basilisk to try and kill students. Eventually it kidnapped her in a bid to steal her energy or her magic or something - I never really got that part."

Harry was running his fingers through Tonks' currently blue hair, looking for all the world like he was telling a bedtime story.

"I ended up having to kill the bloody thing but got a fang stuck in my arm in the process."

"Which you survived how?" Tonks asked, just a little shrill.

"Fawks. Phoenix tears work wonders. Anyway, in the end the diary was destroyed, the Basilisk was killed, and Ginny was more or less fine." Harry shrugged slightly. "Sucked at the time, but I've been through worse since."

Tonks shook her head. "Seriously, Potter. You have one messed up life."

Harry snorted. "Says the metamorph named Nymphadora."

Tonks flung a pillow at him.


	5. Draco

_Author's Notes: What is it about Harry that makes pairing him with guys so much more satisfying? Is it just that the girls aren't particularly good matches for him? Is there something about Harry that screams 'slash?' Or am I just a sucker for guy/guy pairings?_

**Picture Perfect: A Draco x Harry story**

"You want to me to do _what_?" Draco says.

Tracey Davis has the decency to blush, but Lavender Brown has no such compunctions.

"Pose for us," she states, waving a hand in the direction of Colin Creevy who is holding a camera and looking very uncomfortable. "You would make a perfect January."

Davis is nodding and Draco wonders how the hell these two had ended up working together.

"Really," Draco sneers. "And why is that?"

Davis, a Slytherin, obviously recognizes the danger and keeps her mouth shut. Lavender, being a Gryffindor and utterly oblivious, does not. "Because you're the Slytherin Ice Prince," she says, as if this should be perfectly obvious. "Really, Malfoy, you're being as difficult as Harry."

Draco has a moment in which he pictures Potter running in terror from these two and almost laughs. Almost. "Let me get this straight. You want me to pose for this… calendar you two are putting together because you think I would make a good shot for January."

"Exactly," Lavender exclaims. Davis is eyeing Draco carefully, likely trying to decide if she should make a run for it.

Draco asks the Slytherin question. "What's in it for me?"

Lavender frowns. "It's for a good cause. The proceeds are all going towards rebuilding Hogsma-"

"We'll give you copies of all the pictures we take of Potter," Davis interrupts. "We only need one for the calendar, but we plan on taking several to choose from."

Draco raises an eyebrow. That was bold. And sorely tempting. The blackmail possibilities were endless, of course, but really, Potter had matured so well over the last year…

"Deal," he says, before Lavender can argue against it.

*****

A few days later Draco steps into the Room of Requirement to find Lavender and Davis directing Potter as Creevy clicks away on his camera.

The young Malfoy heir runs his eyes up and down the Gyrffindor Golden Boy, taking in the sight with great appreciation.

Potter's shirt is held closed by the two middle buttons only and his tie is hanging loose and just a little rumpled. The girls have obviously taken some hair gel to his hopeless mop, giving a little more purpose to the perpetually dishevelled hair.

Potter has a furious blush on his face which Draco finds surprisingly becoming.

Unconcerned with the possibility of being caught, Draco takes his time in looking over his rival. All in all Potter looks like he has been thoroughly shagged.

_Not bad,_ Draco thinks. _Not bad at all._

This calendar was going to sell magnificently.

Finally Lavender calls off the photo shoot. "Thanks Harry, I think we're done. Draco, give us a minute to change up the room, will you?"

Potter whips his head around and blanches. "M-Malfoy?"

Draco smirks. "If you have problems with me, Potter, what are you going to do when everyone gets hold of the calendar?"

Potter blushes angrily and Draco's already aroused body responds to the beautiful sight.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Potter snaps. Draco grins; Potter was always fun to tease.

Potter scowls, his incredible green eye flashing.

And in that moment Draco can't help himself. He stalks forward and pulls the boy flush against his body. He attacks Potter's mouth with zeal, pushing open the delicious lips with his tongue.

Potter - unbelievably, wondrously - replies in kind.

"Take a picture!" Lavender hisses at Creevy who hastily does as told.

"Holy hell," Davis exclaims.

"_That_ is going to be our cover," Lavender murmurs fervently.

"Forget the cover. We should sell _posters_ of that."

Draco pulls reluctantly away from a slightly panting Potter. "You'll do no such thing; I'm buying that picture from you. Now get out."

The tone allows for no argument and the two girls (plus Creevy) leave as fast as their feet can take them.

Draco turns back to Potter, taking in his lust filled eyes and his slightly open mouth with no little pleasure.

"Now, where were we?"


	6. Ginny

_Author's Notes: Have had weddings on the brain lately._

**The Rest of Forever: A Ginny x Harry story**

You fidget with the cuffs on your sleeves, buttoning and unbuttoning them in a sudden fit of nerves. Someone – Hermione you suspect, though you really aren't paying attention – knocks your hand away and fixes the cuffs for you.

"Really, Harry, I don't see why you are so nervous," Hermione mutters. "Everything is going to go perfectly."

Ron is a little more sympathetic. "Don't listen to her, Harry. I was nervous as hell. Nearly ran for it, if you remember."

Hermione raises an eyebrow and abruptly you are reminded of Professor McGonagall. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, are you implying that you had second thoughts?"

Ron grins sheepishly at his wife. "I did it right in the end, didn't I?"

Hermione humphs at him, but there is a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

You grin at the two of them, happy for them and happy to have them both here. It's an unusual arrangement, having them share the duties of 'best man' (or 'best women' as they'd taken to calling Hermione's position). But it hadn't felt right to not have the both of them standing there with you.

"Time to get going," Ron informs you.

You take one last look in the mirror, frowning slightly at your reflection. Hermione takes both of your hands in hers, redirecting your attention to her. "Stop it. You look great, Harry."

"Besides," Ron interrupted, "it's not like anyone is going to be looking at _you_, mate."

You laugh, a desperately need release of tension.

Everything from leaving the prep room to the moment you first see her passes in a whirl of time and nerves. And then, announced by triumphant music, she steps into the church and your world settles in around you.

You suck in a breath because she's gorgeous and glowing and because you want nothing more than to transport her down the aisle and into your arms so you can kiss her.

Her eyes are locked with yours, and all your nerves float away.

This is your Ginny.

You accept her graciously from Arthur, but before the ceremony really starts she leans in to whisper in your ear.

"You look like you could put your elbow in the butter dish," she murmurs teasingly.

You laugh softly to yourself.

Yes, this is your Ginny.

And you're here to promise the rest of forever with her.


	7. Voldemort

_Author's Notes: You have no idea how many Harry x Voldemort stories I had to read before being able to write this, even as short as it is. Let me know what you think._

**Dead Eyes: A Voldemort x Harry story**

Severus had long ago decided that he hated his life. But this . . . this made his stomach turn with acidic disgust.

The back of his mind sparked with useless plans and unattainable thoughts. It was his duty to save the boy. It had always been.

He couldn't save him from this.

The Dark Lord lounged on his throne, a half smile playing on his lips and his hand languidly running through the black hair of the boy – young man – at his feet.

A trickle of blood was running down the boy's leg. Severus found he did not want to speculate on where it was coming from.

The Dark Lord chuckled, "Enjoying the sight of my pet, Severus?"

Severus swallowed. "Yes, my lord. Forgive me."

Voldemort brushed it off with an indulgent wave. "I can hardly blame you, Severus. He is truly magnificent." He made a contemplative noise, running his fingers along the young wizard's jaw.

"Of course, he was quite difficult at first." A bony hand covered with waxy skin curled around the boy's chin, roughly forcing the boy's face up towards him. "But he learned."

The Dark Lord captured the boy's lips in a vicious kiss. The boy made no sound and no movement. Voldemort smirked upon releasing the boy, petting his head like one would a dog.

Severus desperately searched the face of the boy. He wanted, _needed_, to find some hint of revulsion, of hatred. Anything to indicate that there was some fight left in the child. But the boy's eyes, Lily's sparkling emeralds, were blank.

Looking into those dead eyes, Severus felt his heart clench.

There was no saving Potter.

There was nothing there to save.


	8. Gred and Forge

_Author's Notes: So technically this chapter was supposed to be a Harry/Hermione fic. But while I read that couple I apparently can't write them. So instead I find myself breaking my boy/girl/boy/girl trend and instead settling into another boy/boy. Or is it boy/boy/boy? Whatever..._

**Love Need Not Apply: A Twins x Harry story**

Harry James Potter, Scion of Light, Defender of Hogwarts, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix and all around Chosen One, was well beyond stressed. At twenty years old his life had gone to hell in handbasket _at least_ four years ago (and that was only if you disregarded all the crap that had happened _before_ Dumbledore's death). Currently Harry was seriously debating giving up on the wizarding world in favour of slipping quietly into a life of anonymity in muggle world.

Preferably in Tibet somewhere. Or at least Canada.

He had thought, wrongly, that once he got rid of Voldemort that it would be over. That he'd be able to slip into a comfy little life filled with children and domestic normalcy. And, okay, he'd be famous, but that was nothing new.

No one mentioned power vacuums, wannabe Dark Lords, and the utter inability of the wizarding public to just _get off their arses and stand up for themselves_. Nor had anyone mentioned that once you sign on as a hero it was bloody impossible stop being one. People had _expectations_.

Life would be a lot easier if Harry didn't have a conscience. Maybe then he'd be comfortable with telling the lot of them to go to hell.

Harry groaned as he read the report on the latest "Dark Lord." It was the fifth one since he'd dealt with Voldemort at the end of seventh year. Five Dark Lord's in a three year time span. Harry was starting to understand Dumbledore's lemon drops and rainbow wardrobe. There was some comfort to be found in socially acceptable madness.

Letting his head drop down onto his desk, Harry let loose a sigh. "Maybe I should start wearing fuchsia and handing out gumdrops."

"Bad idea, Harrykins," said a voice from the doorway.

"You're too young to get away with the 'eccentric' look," commented a second person.

"Besides," continued the first, "fuchsia isn't your colour."

Despite himself, Harry felt a tiny grin spread onto his face. "Fred. George," he greeted, not bothering to look up.

"I'm hurt. We don't even rate eye contact anymore. However shall we rectify this?" Fred quipped.

"I haven't the faintest idea, brother dearest," George replied.

As the twins made themselves at home in his office – George perched on the edge of his desk, and Fred moving a chair so he was sitting right next to Harry – Harry sat up properly and gave them a weary smile. "Sorry, guys. I'm just –"

"- stressed beyond human reason?" George offered.

Harry laughed. But the twins just stared at him, identical frowns of concern etched onto their faces. It made Harry shift in his seat. He'd never been comfortable with that kind of focused worry.

"I'm okay. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You aren't okay," Fred stated flatly. "And you need a lot more than sleep."

George lightened the mood a bit. "And we, the Great Weasley Twins, are here to provide!"

Harry groaned. "Do I want to know?"

"Now, now, Harrykins. Don't be that way." Fred tutted. With a lazy flick of his wand Harry's desk was clear of Dark Lord sightings and all the related paraphernalia.

"Hey!" Harry protested indignantly, only to find his attempt to stand up aborted by George abruptly moving to stand behind him and firmly placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry's groan this time was much more pleased as strong hands started to knead the tension out of his muscles. The door clicked shut at just about the same time that Harry gave in and closed his eyes.

"Back to our plan –" Fred stated.

"And a masterful plan it is," said George, letting his fingers wander a bit down Harry's spine.

"That it is, George." Fred replied, startling Harry by picking up his foot and removing his boot.

"What –"

George once again kept Harry from leaping up. "Shush. Let Fred do this."

Harry leaned back reluctantly, wondering what in the name of Merlin was going on.

Fred, meanwhile, had both of his boots removed (along with his socks) and had pulled Harry's feet up into his lap and began to expertly massage them.

After a moment or two Harry found the tension leaking out of him, despite the odd situation.

It was into this moment of weakness that George started to speak.

"See, here's the thing Harry. We figure that you need to have some fun –"

"And maybe get shagged once – " Fred suggested helpfully, causing Harry to blush madly.

"Or twice," George agreed. "And we know that you aren't too picky on gender."

Harry spluttered. "How-"

"Really, Harry," Fred said with a slight laugh, "it was hard to miss you checking out Charlie last Christmas."

Harry's face grew even redder.

Fred grinned mischievously, "That said, we noticed that Charlie wasn't the only Weasley brother you were eyeing appreciatively."

If it had been possible Harry would have sunk into the floor with mortification at this point. But Fred was still massaging his feet and George had yet to wane in his attention to his back and shoulders. So Harry perversely found himself not wanting to move at the same time that he wanted desperately to run and hide.

"So Fred and I had a chat," George continued, feigning obliviousness to Harry's discomfort. "And you're a good looking bloke, and we both can solidly say that we're definitely _interested_, if you know what I mean."

Harry nearly choked. "Wha-" he swallowed. "What exactly are you offering here?"

"Some fun, Harry," Fred replied. "Dates, snogging, and maybe some shagging if you are up to it."

"We are not making declarations of undying love here." George clarified. "I mean, if things end up going in that direction, then that's fine too. But right now we're talking something casual and interesting for all three of us."

'Three of...' Harry mouthed silently.

Fred saw and grinned. "George and I are kind of a package deal, Har. So what do you say? Interested?"

This was beyond bizarre. This was Harry's life taking another one of those strange turns the Fate was so fond of sending his way. He ought to say no. He ought to run for the hills. He ought to...

"Okay," he said instead.

The grin on Fred's face, and the matching one on George's that Harry couldn't see but _knew_ was there told him that this was possibly a terrible decision.

He found he didn't much mind. The Twins couldn't possibly be worse than a stream of Dark Lords...

Right?


	9. Hermione

_Author's Notes: Hah! I have conquered it! The elusive Hermione story (well, drabble, really. But most of these are drabbles). Took long enough..._

**A Moment of Peace: A Hermione x Harry story**

_It's getting late,_ Hermione mused. _We ought to go to bed._

She carded her fingers through Harry's wild hair, lost for a moment in the motion. Really, she should wake him up and send them both on the way to bed. Everyone else was gone already.

But she didn't move from her spot. The fire crackled in tandem with Harry's breathing. He looked... well he looked relaxed for once. Hermione smiled a little. He'd be so embarrassed when he found out he'd fallen asleep on her shoulder! At some point Hermione had carefully moved him from her shoulder to her lap. Ron had put up a fuss at that, but Hermione had shushed him, saying it was easier for her to read without jostling him like that. Even Ron had to admit Harry needed the sleep.

Of course, the position also made it easier to run her fingers through his hair, something she had started doing unintentionally but had no intention of stopping now. It also made it easier for her to examine his face. It was nice to see him without the tension he wore in the day or the lines from his nightmares. Still, it was easy to see that he'd been losing sleep. Hermione bit her lip, wondering if she could convince him to go to Madam Pomfrey about it. _Probably not. He's so stubborn!_

All at once she felt a little ashamed. Harry had never been comfortable with letting others take care of him. He probably never would be. _Those damn relatives of his..._

Taking a calming breath, she pushed those thoughts aside. _She_ would take care of him, whether he wanted it or not. She was doing it now, wasn't she? Watching over him while he slept, making sure that he got some real rest for once. It was worth losing a little of her own sleep for.

Besides, if she was honest she didn't have the heart to move him right now. He'd been so _stressed_ lately. Any moment of peace he could get should be kept as long as possible.

She couldn't protect him from everything. She knew that, as much as it broke her heart. But she could stand by him. And, whenever possible, she could give him moments of peace like this one.

Humming a favourite childhood lullaby, Hermione gently removed Harry's glasses and laid them aside before continuing to shift her fingers through his hair.

_Yes,_ she thought contentedly. _I can definitely do this._


	10. Myrtle

_Author's Notes: Just felt like it. A little bit of canon plus a little alternate universe._

**In Hindsight: A Myrtle x Harry story**

"It's not funny!" Harry hissed at Ron, his face beat red.

Ron just began to laugh harder. Neville, mystified at this interaction, looked to Hermione for an answer. The only female member of the Golden Trio simply shrugged; she didn't know anything more than Neville did.

"Um, Ron? What's so funny?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"Nothing!" Harry snapped. "Ron's just being an arse."

The red-haired boy finally managed to calm down enough to smile sheepishly at Harry. "Sorry, mate. But, you have to admit, in hindsight, it's pretty damn funny."

Harry simply glared.

Neville's gaze bounced back and forth between a still chuckling Ron and an irate Harry.

"Enough already," Hermione demanded. "What is this all about?"

"Wel-" Ron cut off with abrupt yelp.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded indignantly.

"Hermione," he replied.

Neville scrunched up his eyebrows, confused for a moment, before it dawned on him that Harry must have kicked Ron under the table.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked

Harry scowled, before looking down at his plate. "Fine," he grumbled. "_You_ tell them since you think it's so funny."

Ron grinned and leaned in. "Well, you were kind of petrified at the time 'Mione, so you wouldn't know. But back in second year, just before we entered the Chamber? Moaning Myrtle offered to share her toilet with Harry if he died."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is that all? What's so funny about that? It was... kind of her."

The three boys stared at her.

"What?" she demanded. "Well, it was. For Myrtle, I mean."

"It gets worse," Harry muttered. "In fourth year she showed up while I was in the prefect's bath."

Sympathetic embarrassment caused Neville's cheeks to flame.

Hermione coughed. "That – I mean... Oh, for goodness sake, Harry, she's a ghost! It's not like she was... well..."

"She was hitting on me! While I was _naked_!" Harry exclaimed, just a little too loudly.

The clatter of knives and forks quitted for a moment, several Gryffindor's turning to stare at Harry. He glared back.

Eventually breakfast started up again.

"I still don't get what Ron was laughing so hard about," Neville said.

Ron snickered. "That's because you weren't there this morning, Nev."

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

Harry muttered something into his food.

"What?"

"I – uh – was having a ... private moment. In the shower," he mumbled.

"Oh." Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh!"

"Yeah."

"Right then." Hermione covered her mouth, a slight giggle escaping her.

_I swear they speak their own language_. "So what happened? I mean, obviously, Harry, um, having a "private moment" isn't what's funny." Neville prompted.

"Myrtle showed up," Harry said dryly.

Neville dropped his fork.

Ron started to snicker again, "And Harry lets out this big bloody scream, runs out of the shower and into the dorm room! Completely stakers!" He gasped a breath. "And Moaning Myrtle? She comes flying out right after him yelling about how he shouldn't be embarrassed about their love!"

Neville let out a laugh, while Hermione giggled into her napkin.

Harry gave them all a dirty look. "Some friends you guys are."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione managed between giggles. "You have to admit, it _is_ kind of funny."

Harry snorted. "Maybe. In hindsight."


	11. Ron

_Author's Note:_ _I just don't see it with these two but I've had a few requests. Super short, but it's not too bad. Still working on my other fics, I've had some major life changes, so hopefully things will settle pretty soon so I can get back to writing more._

**Brotherly Love: A Ron x Harry Story**

Ron stares at Harry, mouth open, frozen in a moment of shock. Slowly, carefully, he lowers the butterbeer in his hand back down to the table.

"Sorry, mate," he says, rubbing a finger in his ear. "Don't think I heard you quite right."

Harry shifts uncomfortably, worry creasing his forehead. "I... um... I think I'm gay."

Ron's insides give a little jump. This is not something he is prepared for. "Right... right. Okay then." He tries desperately to keep his face neutral. Harry winces despite Ron's best efforts.

"Ron..." Green eyes beg him to say something more. Something comforting. Something _accepting_.

"It's fine, Harry," Ron mutters, feeling heat rise up the back of his neck and up to his ears. "Really. Just wasn't expecting it is all."

This doesn't do much to clear up the worry on Harry's face.

Ron smiles at him, just a little shaky. "Jeez, mate, relax. Give a bloke a moment to adjust."

All at once Harry releases his built up tension. "Sorry, Ron. It's kind of a big thing, you know?"

They sit for a moment, letting the importance of the moment calm into something a bit more normal.

Ron clears his throat. "So," he asks, unaccountably nervous, "anybody I should know about?"

"No!" Harry replies, a blush staining his cheeks. "Nobody. Just thought you should know. Being my best mate and all."

Something in Ron goes just a little cold. "Best mate, 'course."

Harry looks down at the table. "You aren't worried about me... doing anything, are you? I mean, I wouldn't... "

Ron clears his throat. "I know you wouldn't. I mean... best mates, right? Practically brothers." He ignores the clenching in his stomach. It was probably something he ate anyway.

"Yeah," Harry mumbles, not sounding the least bit encouraged. "Like brothers."


End file.
